Happy Birthday Severus
by The Half Mad Muggle
Summary: It is Severus' birthday; yet Albus is feeling emotional in more ways than one.


Happy Birthday Severus

_MUST BE READ BEFORE THE SEQUEL, "__**HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALBUS**__"_

_Shameless fluff, you know you love it. Please read this, and then read its second parter, Happy Birthday Albus. _

_All my love, SS19._

* * *

He glared at his calendar the way he would glare at a first year dunderhead.

January 9th.

The magical calendar would not change the date, no matter how fiercely he stared at it.

January 9th. It was nearly the end of the Christmas holidays. Teaching commenced tomorrow.

January 9th was also something else.

His birthday.

He hated this date more than anything.

He skipped breakfast. This was becoming a regular occurrence since the Dark Lord's return. Food seemed to disagree with him. He could last maybe a few hours before his stomach rejected...well, almost anything.

He was getting by. Just. He looked in the mirror and saw a skeleton. Haunted eyes, dark shadows, the silhouette of the man he had once been.

That was his sacrifice. That was his punishment for the deeds he had committed. One day, he was promised, freedom would come.

He sighed between his teeth, running a hand across his firm stomach beneath his robes. His body was not working properly; constant fear and anxiety did that to both the physical form and the conscious mind.

The nightmares were worse.

He crossed his office abruptly, slamming the door behind him.

"Severus!"

Minerva. _Don't you dare..._

"I do wish you would stop gloating about Quidditch. Your win against Hufflepuff before Christmas will become insignificant." Competitive as always, Minerva did not like to lose. Just like him. "After a while, your voice becomes irritating." She smiled at him fondly, "How are you today?"

"Tired, but otherwise fine." He replied with a shadowy upturning at the corners of his mouth, "Just another day."

"Another cold day." She narrowed her eyes at him, "You do not look well, Severus. Are you sure you are eating and everything?"

"Leave off, Minerva, you are beginning to sound like Albus." He teased, his words affectionate if not a little sarcastic.

"He wanted to see you, by the way. Mentioned something about a meeting." She patted his arm, "Go easy on Potter, Severus. We all know he irritates you...but I need Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup again this year."

He narrowed his eyes into a glare at her, "We shall see." He turned from his previous destination, and started the ascent to Dumbledore's office.

When he knocked on the door, a voice greeted him. "Severus. Come in."

He opened the door and crossed the threshold. Dumbledore's office always seemed so warm—too warm for his liking. There was always so much light, shining in through the windows, and yet a fireplace roared in the hearth and candles banished even the faintest shadows. He felt all darkness dissipate; his soul was exposed for him to see.

Yet this exposure did not concern him. Even though the light was harsh, the eyes were kind. Albus Dumbledore always showed considerable kindness with Severus, guiding him along the treacherous and constantly uphill path, and reaching out to hold his hand when he needed it most.

"Good morning, Severus. Have a seat."

He felt awed, sometimes, before Albus. The eyes seemed so see into his very heart, always weighing him up and contemplating him. He was the only man who owned and had indeed earned Severus' true respect.

"I believe there is something we need to celebrate, today, Severus, unless my mind is failing me in old age."

And of course. He never forgot Severus' birthday.

"How many years is it this year, Severus?"

He folded his arms with a smile, "Many less than you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in a mock glare comparable to Severus', "A jibe, Severus? Perhaps I should not give you your birthday gift."

Severus raised his eyebrows, "I do not need gifts, Headmaster."

"I have a feeling you will like this one, Severus. Tea?"

"No thank you."

"You should start trying tea, Severus, I feel it would help to relieve your exhaustion. Have you been eating regularly?"

"Yes."

"Severus." Dumbledore's tone was serious, "Define the word "regularly"."

"Once a week." His response was flippant, uncaring. "I am not hungry."

Albus stared at him for a moment longer, "I do wish you would take better care of yourself, Severus. We cannot afford to lose you, my dear child."

He ruffled at the endearment, "I am unimportant."

Albus shook his head sadly, "Wrong, as ever, Severus." He stood, reaching into the pocket of his robe, "But anyway. Here. I found it in a...I believe the word is "bargain" shop when I was out shopping in Hogsmeade."

He handed the small, rectangular package wrapped in bright magenta paper to Severus, who took it, glancing at the gift tag.

_To my most beloved Potions Master. Happy Birthday Severus. Love, Albus._

He screwed his nose up at the word "love", an emotion he had yet to understand or translate to his own life. But still, affection touched his heart and he smiled. "A kind message."

"Only the truth, Severus."

"I dislike this day." Severus murmured as he started to undo the cyan ribbon, "What meaning does it have?"

"It is a time for the ones you love to celebrate your life, Severus." Albus supplied the definition with a smile.

"How many more will I see?" The question was dark, his eyes haunted by the terrible reality that the two of them faced each day.

The fact that Severus Snape was walking the edge of the knife. One mistake, one misstep, and he would tumble into the inescapable void. The harshness of this truth shadowed their every conversation, stole every shared moment and tainted every word. The fact that they could be the last ones they exchanged...

"If I have anything to do with it, Severus, several." Albus tried, always, to relieve the fears and alleviate the nightmares. He saw it as his duty. "Go on, open it."

He tore the paper, eagerness quickening his moments. It was a book.

He read the title.

He read it again.

Black eyes flicked up to Albus', "Where did you say you found this?" He asked, voice incredulous.

Albus shrugged, "In a box of books that the owner did not want anymore." He folded his arms, "Why? I did not think it was of much importance."

Severus stared at him, disbelieving. "Do you know what this is?"

Dumbledore looked bemused, "...No."

Severus' voice caught with emotion and enthusiasm, "This is the diary of the first Potions Master who ever lived, Headmaster!" He flicked through the worn pages, "There are no copies of this left in existence!"

He didn't see the smile starting to form on Dumbledore's face, so taken was he with the book. "It contains all the theories for potion making, the ingredients that he first discovered, and potions that have long become extinct!" He opened the front cover. "What's this?"

"Read it." Dumbledore murmured.

"_Dear Albus. I find myself close to the next big adventure. Therefore, I entrust this, my journal, into your care. I know that you have an aversion to Potions; but I also know that one day, you will find my equal in terms of talent and intelligence. When you find him, when you know him, please give him this book. He will know exactly what to do with it."_

There was another hand, with some new words.

"_Here we are, Severus. I cannot think of a better person for this book to belong to. Use it well, my dear child."_

There was silence for a moment.

Dumbledore moved so he could see into Snape's face, "Is something wrong?"

"...No." Severus whispered after a moment. "It's..." A lack of words seemed to have overwhelmed the younger wizard.

Albus smiled to himself, feeling pleased that he had finally found the perfect gift for his young friend.

"...You haven't signed the note." Severus said finally, handing the book back to Dumbledore with a shaking hand. "Sign it."

Dumbledore found his quill and started to write on the cover—the nib snapped with a cracking sound.

"Damned quill." Dumbledore murmured, throwing it to one side and finding another, less elegant substitute. "Remind me to go to Diagon Alley, Severus. I'll only forget." He seemed to be forgetting more and more at the moment. Many chose to ignore his faults; Severus seemed apt at pointing them out.

"Of course, Headmaster." His voice was neutral, but there was a tremble.

"Here you are. Look after it, Severus." He smiled at the other warmly, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you. It's wonderful, it really is. But...I don't think it should belong to me...I am not..."

"You are the most talented Potions maker I have met, Severus, so stop being modest." Dumbledore gestured to the armchairs by the window, "Now. We must have a celebratory drink, dear boy."

Ten minutes later, they were both settled in separate armchairs, staring out at Hogwarts' Grounds.

Albus was holding a glass of his favourite red wine—and yet, instead of sipping from the glass, he was staring at his fingers. Severus' gaze travelled to meet the same place, "Is there something wrong?"

"It's funny. The ends of my fingers keep going numb. I can't feel anything."

"That's old age, Headmaster." Sarcastic as always, Severus was very quick off the mark with his comment. Dumbledore glared at him.

"I'll give you old age, Severus." His tone was humorous, "When you are 150 years old, dear child, we shall see how you are faring."

Severus sobered, looking out at the grounds. "I doubt I will live to see 50, let alone 150."

There was comfortable silence once more.

"Severus." Dumbledore spoke finally. "You do know how important you are, don't you?"

Severus glanced across at him, "I know that your students' Potions grades would be awful without me, yes."

Dumbledore smiled, but then looked at him seriously, "No. I mean, generally. You know."

Was it just Severus' tired eyes, or was the Headmaster looking uncomfortable? He chose not to answer, staring out at the gardens, but hanging on every word.

"I just want you to know that...I am very proud of you, Severus Snape." His words were heartfelt and genuine, with slight pauses as if they were difficult to conjure. "One day, Severus, I promise you...you will be recognised for the hero you are."

Severus folded his arms over his chest, turning his head so he could stare straight into Albus' blue eyes, "But I don't want recognition. I just want peace."

"Then I will find you that. I would cross rivers and traverse mountains for you, Severus, you have to know that."

"I know, Headmaster. I would do the same for you."

"...But...if anything...were to happen to you...know that I would come for you. I would not leave you there to suffer. You do know that, yes?"

Severus nodded. "I know."

"Good."

"Headmaster, is everything all right?"

Dumbledore rose abruptly from his chair, startling Severus with the sudden graceful movement. "I am just concerned, that is all. I cannot lose you. Because of both the war, and your importance to me."

"I am not planning on going anywhere, soon, headmaster."

"Can you promise me that?"

"Yes. I promise." He frowned, "Why? Have you seen something?"

"No. I just see you, fading away into nothingness. I see you not eating and sleeping. I see you returning from the Dark Lord with one more scar to add to your impressive collection. I see, every day, the haunted look in your gaze. I see, every day, the pressure I put you under."

"No."

He looked out of the window, "I see the position I have put you in. If you die, there will be only one person to blame. I see that I use the people I love as weapons."

"Stop this!" He couldn't bear the emotion in these words. "Please, Headmaster."

"I see the death of those people before this war is over."

"Headmaster!" Severus leapt to his feet, "Stop. _I _chose to accept this position. I do it because you are right, we cannot bring the Dark Lord down any other way. I do it because I must, we must defeat him. And I do it because I trust you, I know that you have no choice, and I do not resent you for that. You forget, dear Headmaster, when you start on this circle of blame and guilt, that you rescued me. Rebuilt me. Saved me. I am only repaying my debt to you." He smiled, touching the Headmaster's arm, the closest he got to physical contact. "Please, do not think so little of me to think I will be treated like a servant and obey every command—I do it because I want to."

Albus stared at him as if seeing him from across a great distance, "But...look at you..."

"I am still here. The Dark Lord, although he knows he is being watched, does not think it is me. I am going to be here to fight for you, Headmaster. I will not lose this fight." His gaze was determined, and just a little concerned.

Finally the Headmaster smiled, relaxing his tense shoulders. "Thank you, Severus."

They both sat down.

"I am sorry to have been so emotional on your birthday, Severus. Perhaps I only see you growing up."

"I am already grown up, headmaster. I am no longer a child."

"Indeed. You are an adult, and a brave one at that." He reached across the gap between them, brushing a finger against Severus' cheek, "But you will always be a child to me, Severus. And I will always see you as my son, nothing else. That is why you must never abandon me. You must never surrender. Do you promise me that?"

"Yes. As long as you promise never to blame yourself, if something does happen to me."

"Then we are agreed." Albus withdrew his hand. "A toast, to you, Severus Snape, the best spy who ever lived."

The glasses chinked together, and they both looked out the window toward the sun, and its warm, comforting light.

* * *

_Hmmm. One wonders if this author knows the meaning of foresight? Please read Happy Birthday Albus next. But there is always time to leave a short review, is there not? All my love, SS19._


End file.
